I look up at him. Between the two of us, a tremor of understanding passes—too late, too scarred.
The mute boy stands, expression blank. He watches Callan’s body like he’s reading something etched in the metal.
I press my fingers to the wound. Warm, sticky. I taste iron. I whisper, “I’m sorry,” to no one—Borzen, Callan, the Maze. All of them.
My vision blurs. The walls spin faintly. The hum is louder. A low vibration beneath the floor.
Dravven steps forward and lifts me by the shoulder. “We can’t stay. We’ve got to move.” His voice is firm.
I nod. My trembling legs carry me forward.
But before I leave, I glance back at Borzen’s corpse. I whisper, “I’ll finish this. For you.”
The Maze purrs. The corridors ahead twist. The path is long. My arm throbs. My heart is raw.
But I stand.
Because even dead weight can carry memory.
CHAPTER 16
GYON
Itaste ozone and metal when the doors behind me shut.
The corridor’s lights blink off and on, rearranging themselves like the maze’s mocking grin. The path I came down no longer exists. I’m faced with two diverging halls—one leads to a chamber echoing with screams and chemical hiss, the other hums toward the core hallway where Iknowshe is.
The Maze is folding itself. Looping me back onto itself.
My gut twists: I can save the civilians—or get to her.
I pause. The stink of the gas chamber leaks past the walls. I hear them coughing. The veil of guilt tugs at me.
I step forward, decision made, pushing toward the core hallway. Every step is a squeeze of pain. My ribs flare; my lungs burn. Plasma arcs in vents overhead. The corridor walls flicker in and out, cheating geometry. I chase the faint scent of her—faint, softer than before, like a lullaby in a thunderstorm.
Behind me, the gas chamber roars in distant death. I hear choking, screaming, then silence. The air flushes. The maze swallowed them.
No regrets.
The corridor narrows. Doors slide open, close. I race. My claws rake metal edges, leaving red trails. Heat presses on me. Jagged lights cast monstrous shapes.
Then Dirk’s voice, smooth, resonant, creeping into the vents: “Oh, look who’s found his way back. Didn’t think you had it in you, co-conspirator.”
My fists clench. My shadow warps.
He continues: “You think you're a wild card? The jalshagar twist?” He chuckles. “That was mine too. I seeded your path. You walking this maze is my design.”
My spine tightens. The lies taste sour. The maze pulses around me, seeking reaction.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” I grunt.
Dirk laughs. “You forget who made the corridors, the traps, the heartbeats. I poured your legend into every line of code. I made you part ofmyshow.”
A door ahead slides open. Light leaks. I bolt.
I burst into a chamber—the core hallway, massive and brutal. The floor vibrates. Bulkhead doors line both sides. At the far end, a raised ledge and a terminal. Liora stands before it, fists on the interface.
Behind her, Dravven.
